J. Cole | Page 9

would be driven round from the mews,

and stop before a house to take some one for a morning drive; but very
seldom was anybody on foot seen about. In the afternoon it was
different,--carriages rolled along incessantly, and streams of afternoon
callers were going and coming from the houses when the mistress was
"at home;" and at my door, too, soon began the usual din of bell and
knocker. Joe was quite equal to the occasion, and enjoyed Friday, the
day I received. Dressed in his very best, and with a collar that kept his
chin in what seemed to me a fearful state of torture, but added to his
height by at least half an inch, Joe stood behind the hall-door, ready to
open it directly the knocker was released. He ushered in the guests as
though "to the manner born," giving out the names correctly, and with
all the ease of an experienced groom of the chambers.
The conservatory leading out of the drawing-room was Joe's especial
pride; it was his great pleasure to syringe the hanging baskets, and
attend to the ferns and plants. Many shillings from his pocket-money
were spent in little surprises for me in the form of pots of musk,
maiden-hair, or anything he could buy; his wages were all sent home,
and he only kept for his own whatever he had given to him, and
sometimes a guest would "tip" him more generously than I liked, for
his bright eyes and ready hands were always at everybody's service.
After my husband's return home, who from the first became Joe's
especial care, as to boots, brushing of clothes, etc., it became necessary
to give two or three dinner-parties, and I must confess I felt nervous as
to how Joe would acquit himself.
In our dining-room was a very large bear-skin rug, and the floor being
polished oak, it was dangerous to step on this rug, for it would slip
away from the feet on the smooth surface, and even the dogs avoided it,
so many falls had they met with upon it.
The first day of my husband's arrival we had my sister and a friend to
dine, and had been talking about Joe in the few moments before dinner.
My husband had been laughing at the size of my page, and scolding me
a little, or rather pretending to do so, for taking a written character.

"Little woman," he said, "don't be surprised if one night a few country
burglars make us a visit, and renew their acquaintance with Mr. J.
Cole."
"You don't know Joe," I replied, "or you would never say that."
"Do you know him so well, little wife?" said my dear sensible husband;
"remember he has only been in our service six months. In the country
he had very little of value in his hands, but here, it seems to me, he has
too much. All the plate, and indeed everything of value, is in his pantry,
and he is a very young boy to trust. One of the women servants should
take charge of the plate-chest, I think. Where does this paragon sleep?"
"Down-stairs," I said, "next to the kitchen, at the back of the house; and
you should see how carefully every night he looks to the plate-basket,
counts everything, and then asks Mrs. Wilson to see it is right, locks it
up, and gives her the key to take care of. No one can either open or
carry away an iron safe easily, and there is nothing else worth taking;
besides, I know Joe is honest, I feel it."
"Well, I hope so, dear," was my husband's reply, but I could see he was
not quite comfortable about it.
At dinner that day Joe had an accident; he was dreadfully nervous, as
usual, and when waiting, he forgot to attend to my guests first, but
always came to me. The parlor-maid, a new one, and not a great
favorite with Joe, made matters worse by correcting him in an audible
voice; and once, when somebody wanted oyster-sauce, she told Joe to
hand it. The poor boy, wishing to obey quickly, forgot to give the
bear-skin a wide berth, slipped on it, and in a moment had fallen full
length, having in his fall deposited the contents of the sauce- tureen
partly into a blue leather armchair, and the rest onto my sister's back.
The boy's consternation was dreadful. I could see he was completely
overcome with fright and sorrow for what he had done. He got up, and
all his trembling lips could say was, "Oh, please, I'm so sorry; it was
the bear as tripped me up. I am so very sorry."

Even my husband could scarcely keep from smiling, the sorrow was so
genuine, the sense